A few years ago a cousin of mine posted a meme of a vocabulary word on Facebook. Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places in your past. I almost didn't read it, but when I did, it … Continue reading Hiraeth
Month: October 2016
Camping, Finch Family Style
Whenever a picture of Pioneer Peak floats across my FB feed, I get an instant, kick-in-the-gut shot of nostalgia. There are few things that make me miss home like that mountain does. Knife edged peaks, seemingly snow-capped year round, thrusting straight up from the valley floor. Warm mellow light of an autumn sun painting the … Continue reading Camping, Finch Family Style
(This was published earlier, but wanted to get my writing on one site) Last September I returned home, to Anchorage, for the sad occasion of my sister’s funeral. Over the week, as my family gathered we toured our remembered favorites. Lunch at the Roadrunner and ordered an Alaska Banquet of course – my grown up … Continue reading Ocean View
Afternoons with my grandmother were spent sipping tea. Hot tea, no matter the weather. Tea from delicate, beautiful and oh-so-fragile teacups. A cube or two of sugar, the lovely sound of metal ag… Source: Teacups
What it Means to be a Family Dog.
This morning I woke up thinking about loyal, sweet Gwennie. Even though she has been gone two years, I can still almost feel her. Her head on the bed, staring at me, willing me to wake up. Her toenails, click, click, clicking as she follows Scott's heel closely as he gets ready in the morning. … Continue reading What it Means to be a Family Dog.
Afternoons with my grandmother were spent sipping tea. Hot tea, no matter the weather. Tea from delicate, beautiful and oh-so-fragile teacups. A cube or two of sugar, the lovely sound of metal against porcelain, a small silver spoon resting on the matching saucer. She kept them on a sideboard, and each afternoon we would select a … Continue reading Teacups
FaceTime and all that jazz.
I am a gramma. In spite of one daughter's campaign to call me Grampoo (Gracie.... really?), I am called Gramma. The word needs to be said in a very specific way.... graaaama.... drawn out and high pitched, alright, it could maybe be described as being whiny. I have said graaaama to him from the … Continue reading FaceTime and all that jazz.
When Grace was in 1st grade she "learned" how to make Voodoo dolls on the bus. I was in my classroom, grading papers when I felt the sharpest sensation - the pain of a single hair being pulled from my head. She was making a Voodoo doll of me! I said absolutely not. Later that night … Continue reading Voo-Doo